“Precisely,” answered the elf, looking pleased. Part of me wanted to pull him closer, to nibble on those full lips. “Once they’re ready, you have to put your own energy into them to activate them. Like turning on a switch. It takes a lot of mental effort and willpower. For me, it’s the energy that comes from the elements. I draw from them.”
“Elemental magic,” I said.
“Exactly.”
All this elf dust had me nearly forgetting the real reason we came here. I turned from the stove. “Gareth. Something’s happened to Danto.”
“And Layla too,” added Tyrius.
Gareth glanced from me to Tyrius, his face tight with sudden nerves. “What about them?”
I shifted my weight. “Lucian tricked Layla into taking the gift. It’s in her now. And I couldn’t stop it.”
“And she kicked Danto’s ass with it,” finished Tyrius.
My stomached clenched. “She’s completely lost it. She doesn’t recognize her friends anymore.”
“She attacked Rowyn too,” said Tyrius.
Gareth’s smooth features went tight with a worry far beyond his years. His hands clasped before him with a white-knuckled strength, and his expression was pained—not for him but for me. Alarm shone on his face as he stepped closer, inspecting me like he thought I’d have the marks on me still.
“I’m fine,” I said, glad to see how much he cared on some level. “She’s Lucian’s puppet now. I have a really bad feeling he’s about to do something. I don’t know what, but I know a lot of people will die. But first, Danto needs your help. He’s in really bad shape. Evanora says—”
“You’ve been to see the witch?” Gareth’s posture shifted.
I took a deep breath. “That’s how desperate I am. Danto’s dying. But she can’t help him. She says only you can save him.”
Gareth raked his hands through his hair. He was quiet for a long time, and that made me nervous.
“Gareth?”
“I don’t have the elf dust to heal him from that,” he said, and I frowned at the heaviness in his tone and the haunted look in his eyes.
I shifted from foot to foot. “But you’ve helped Evanora and me with your healing magic.”
His face twisted as though he was in physical pain. “This is different. This is archdemon magic. A dark, archdemon curse. It’s much more powerful.”
My heart sank. “Are you sure?” My insides churned like they were being rearranged in my belly, swirling up into my throat.
“I am,” said the elf, making Tyrius curse as he exhaled long and low. “Only dragon’s breath can save him.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Dragon’s breath?”
Tyrius perked up. “Evanora has a serious case of dragon breath.”
“It’s a very rare and powerful elf dust,” continued Gareth as though Tyrius hadn’t randomly interrupted. “It’s the only thing that can remove the archdemon curse and heal him. It burns away darkness.” He hesitated, his jaw clenching. “The problem is. The powder that is used to make dragon’s breath can only be found in one place in the world.”
My lips parted. “Where?”
Gareth reached out and touched my elf stone with his fingers, brushing it lightly.
“Imadell,” he said. “The elven city.”
9
Turns out, Imadell, the secret elven city was right here in New York City, right under the humans’ and our paranormal noses. You just had to know where to look—and how to look.
You needed elven magic to see through the glamour, like a VIP pass. Without it, you couldn’t see through their glamour. Which meant, only elves could enter the secret city because only they could actually see it.
Thank the souls we had an elf with us.
The last time I checked my phone, it was half past ten at night. Surprisingly I wasn’t tired. I was wired way too tightly. We needed to reach the elven city tonight if I wanted to save Danto. The fact that the elven city was in New York City gave me a sense of relief since it wasn’t too far away.
My boots crunched on the mix of rock, dirt and dry leaves as we hiked up the trail, a grove of giant oaks and maples on either side of the path. Gareth hiked alongside me, and Tyrius was wrapped comfortably around my shoulders while making snarky comments at my lack of speed.
Wind rustled through the forest around me, and silver moonlight, brighter than I would have thought possible, bathed everything in hues of silvers and blues—surreal beauty. It was enough to see the path clearly.
We were in Inwood Hill Park, the northernmost part of Manhattan. Unlike other Manhattan parks, Inwood Hill Park was largely natural, non-landscaped, and filled with mostly wild forest. The forest smelled of wet earth, leaves, and pinecones—a far cry from the exhaust fumes and the lingering stench of garbage I’d grown accustomed to in the city. The park was scenic and beautiful. I gladly breathed in the fresh air.
Trees and greenery grew thick, and the sounds that surrounded us weren’t the nighttime noises of New York City but the buzz of locusts and the chittering of other insects and animals I didn’t recognize. Somehow it didn’t surprise me that the elves would pick such a wild, natural and secluded environment for their secret city. There was something mystical about it.
Still, among its natural beauty, the supernatural lingered. I felt them. The familiar, undulating demon energies, crawling over my skin like hundreds of ants. The supernatural lived here.
“How much further, oh wise elf?” came Tyrius’s voice beside my ear, his whiskers rubbing against my cheek, and I stifled a shiver.
“We’re almost there,” replied Gareth, his stride never faltering as he hiked up the path like he’d done it a thousand times. He probably had.
He’d been very quiet since we entered the forest, too quiet. “How long has it been since you’ve been here?” I stepped over a fallen tree that’d split in half when it hit the ground. These were the times I was glad I had on my flat boots and not a pair of flimsy sandals.
A muscle feathered in the elf’s jaw. “Fifteen years.”
“Damn,” whispered Tyrius.
I squinted at Gareth. “I’m guessing the welcoming committee is out.”
Gareth’s face remained blank for a telling moment. “We’re here for the dragon’s breath. We get it and then we leave.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Yes.” The light wrinkles around his eyes deepened as his jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened.
I knew he was risking more shunning and banishment from his family coming back to the city and coming with me—a non-elf. I didn’t know much about the elf culture, but I did know they didn’t like outsiders. Right now, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what they thought of me. I wasn’t here to make friends. Danto’s life was more important than good relations with the elves.
There was history that Gareth never shared with me. He never talked about his family, and I never really saw how much it bothered him until now.
Fifteen years was a long time without seeing one’s family. People changed. They grew old and bitter. And something inside me told me that getting our hands on some dragon’s breath wasn’t going to be easy.
“Uh—I think that’s it,” said Tyrius as he leapt off my shoulder and landed on the ground. “Yeah. There’s definitely some glamour here at work.”
Sure enough, a tingling rolled across my skin, and the air was thick with a pulsing energy. The tingling lifted, and I peered around the edge of the forest with Tyrius leaning next to me. Ambiguous, shadowy shapes stirred in the wind between us and the forest, flimsy as any shadow.
A wind rose, and the wall of trees and forests lifted, revealing a large meadow with hills surrounded by silver waters. Hundreds of shimmering golden lights floated out across the field like fireflies, little more than mirages of moonlight.
And there, illuminated by the soft glow of city lights, was the elven city.
“Welcome,” said Gareth, his shoulder brushing against mine, “to Imadell.”
“Wow. It’s beautiful.”
No wonder the elves chose to live here instead of the cramped and dingy Mystic Quarter. This place was a paradise of grassy hills, wildflowers, and cherry and apple trees still in full blossom, all surrounded by shimmering silver waters. It held an eerie beauty at night, so I could only imagine it must be breathtaking in daylight.
Hell, even I would live here. But I knew I was just kidding myself. Non-elves weren’t welcomed in the city, as Gareth had put it.
As soon as we’d crossed the invisible barrier, or glamour, I felt the energy of the elves coursing throughout the forest, concentrated, filling up the air, the ground, and even the trees surrounding us. The smell of lavender, wildflowers, and earth was intoxicating.
The trail wound back and forth and then opened onto a grassy clearing, and Gareth and I followed it. The cat crept along the path ahead of us, his ears perked high on his head and his tail low to the ground, twitching with a nervous energy. He stopped every few feet to sniff at the ground or a shrub and then took off again.
Seeing Tyrius edgy had my own tension rising. Prickles of sweat popped out on my forehead, my armpits wet and sliding effortlessly as I swung my arms. Great. Now I’d meet Gareth’s family drenched in sweat and stinky.
I clenched my hands, not knowing what else to do with them without the feel of a weapon grasped there. I knew I wouldn’t be welcomed here, and I was taking a huge risk venturing into a secret city where I knew there’d be trouble of the fighting kind. I just hoped they wouldn’t kill us before we got our hands on some dragon’s breath.
I eased into a more comfortable walk and calmed my breathing, straining to listen to the forest over the wind and getting a feel for the natural sounds. A breeze set the branches rustling. I scanned the hills carefully, watching and listening for sets of feet or anything else.
“Fifteen years is a long time,” I told the elf, watching for a reaction and getting none. “You think we can still get some dragon’s breath.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
I pressed my lips together. “I am worried. Evanora said Danto’s aura was thin. He doesn’t have very long. What if we get there, and they refuse? Then what?”
“They won’t.”
“And you’re sure about that.”
“I am.” Gareth looked at me. “It’ll be fine. We’ll get the dragon’s breath and we’ll save Danto.” His eyes moved to my necklace. “Keep it hidden under your shirt. Don’t let them see it.”
“Why?”
“It’s for the best. Just do it.”
I opened my mouth just as Tyrius came bounding down the path. “Can you feel the wild magic? The elves’ energies? It’s everywhere. In the trees, the grass, the flowers. Even in the air you breathe. This whole place stinks of it.” The cat made a face. “I think I’m going to hurl.”
I let out a breath and picked my way around a fallen tree. The elf was looking everywhere at once, his posture tense and stiff, and it had me worried.
I knew Gareth had been rejected from his community because he loved a human woman. This place was beautiful on the outside, but it made me wonder what kind of cruelty we’d find on the inside.
The wind wafted overhead, and something swift passed between me and the trees. I squinted up into the semi-darkness, thinking it must have been a bat. I loved bats, but I didn’t get to see them in the city. And yet these glorious creatures had such a horrible reputation with the humans. To them they were blood sucking monsters. To me, they were just hamsters with wings. I arched my neck, but I saw nothing but the swaying treetops—
“Ow,” I hissed, slapping my neck, as something stung my skin, sending it aflame.
Gareth was next to me in a second. “What is it?”
“A giant mosquito just took a bite out of my neck,” I said, and the cat chuckled, making me frown.
“What?” I growled at him.
“That wasn’t a mosquito,” said Tyrius on the ground near my feet. I didn’t like the laughter in his tone nor the grin on the elf’s face.
My eyebrows rose not appreciating how the boys were bonding at my expense. “It wasn’t?” I pulled back my hand. Blood marred my fingertips. What the hell?
“No.” The cat smiled, and then he said pointedly, “That was a pixie.”
“Can’t be?” I rubbed the spot where it still burned and itched, and I felt a small welt forming. “A pixie? What are you talking about? Pixies don’t attack people. They’re too busy stealing jewelry and other precious gems. They don’t rip chunks of flesh out of your neck.”
“Wood pixies are different.” Gareth’s posture relaxed a little.
“Think miniature vampires with wings,” added the cat.
My face bunched up. “And how would you know?”
“Because one is standing on your shoulder.”
I stiffened. Then, “Son of a bitch!” I flicked my hands over my shoulders, spinning on the spot like a total idiot. Okay, not cool, but the thought of pixies biting my flesh to suck some of my blood sent my creep-o-meter sky-high. That was just gross.
Movement caught my eye. And then I saw it. A shimmering golden light rose up high, its golden swings clattering aggressively, sending a trail of golden dust. A wood pixie.
The shimmering golden fireflies I’d noticed before were pixies. Hundreds of those little shits.
Even in the moonlight I could tell they looked nothing like the pixies I’d seen in the city. About three inches tall, this one’s skin was dark green and rough. And though the city pixies looked like miniature humans, this wood pixie was more animal-like. Its face was elongated, more like a snout. It opened its mouth full of sharp teeth and hissed at me, its ugly face screwed up in anger. It looked pissed. But not as pissed as I was.
I snapped a branch off the nearest tree and swatted it, making sure the pixie saw it. “Bite me again,” I threatened, “and I’ll flatten you, you glowing little bastard.”
The wood pixie hissed at me again, and I swear it flipped me the finger before it flew off backward and then hovered at a safe distance, its tiny black eyes on me, waiting.
If it came any closer, I was going to kill it. The little shit was going down.
My head jerked up. The clatter of pixy wings became obvious. They were everywhere. We were surrounded. Just great.
“Let’s keep moving,” Gareth said as he trudged up the path.
I followed him, my temper going black. “Yes. Let’s. The sooner we make it to the city, the sooner we can get out of this damn forest.”
“I thought you said it was b-e-e-eautiful,” drawled the baal demon, making me want to kick him into the bushes.
“I take it back.”
I cringed when I felt tiny mouths gnawing at my scalp, and bile rose in the back of my throat. “Stop that, you little shits,” I cried, flinging my makeshift flyswatter over my head like a crazy person but not hitting a single one. Small, winged forms, moving fast, darted around me from every direction. Damn. I was swarming in blood-sucking pixies.
“Why aren’t they attacking you?” I growled at the elf.
Gareth turned to look at me. “I’m an elf. They’ll only bite non-elves.”
Figures. “They’re not attacking Tyrius.”
The cat shrugged and kept walking. “What did you expect? You’ve got tasty angel blood in you. So suck it up. You’re not going to die of a few pixie bites. Though, you might suffer from a mild pixie fever.”
“Pixie fever?”
“It’s nothing,” mewed the cat, his voice nonchalant, like he was commenting on the different species of trees in the forest. “A little bit of vomiting. Stomach cramps. The chills. Oh—and then there’s the horrible gas.”
“I should have left you with Evanora.”
My mood soured as I flicked the collar of my leather jacket up. Something that small with wings would be lethal in the city. Thank the souls they seemed to be only in this part of the forest.
Earlier tonight, I’d been anxious to wander in th
is secret forest. Now I just wanted to get the hell out and back to civilization, back to where blood-sucking pixies didn’t exist.
“Hurry up, woman,” urged the cat, and I realized I was lagging behind. My pace had slowed with my recent pixie attack. “We have a human-sized blood sucker to save.”
With my hands on my head, I walked faster, my thighs pulsing with stamina-fed anger, fear and guilt, making Tyrius jog to catch up.
We moved like that for another five minutes until I noticed something was wrong.
The sudden stillness pulled my head up. “The pixies are gone,” I said, though I should have been feeling a sense of relief. Instead a tightness formed in my chest.
Tyrius froze mid-step next to me, his eyes in the sky. “They wouldn’t just give up a free taste of your blood unless something else scared them off.”
I had to agree. The fact that they’d left so suddenly should have been warning enough.
When Gareth halted, his hands brushing the inside of his coat, I knew something was very wrong.
I spun on the spot, heart pulsing in my throat. There was nothing along the path or through the trees that I could see. I threw out my senses, and a prickling sensation ran down my spine as the energies swirled around me.
Someone stood in the bushes. Maybe even two.
“Stop right there,” called a voice in the night, sending my adrenaline pounding through me.
I hadn’t had a good fist fight in a while. I was rusty, but I could still kick some elf ass. I grinned. I could barely contain myself.
There was a bustle of leaves and three elves stepped through the shrubs and into the path.
Oh, goodie.
10
When someone points a sharp sword in your face, normally you should be scared. But I wasn’t.
I felt dangerously calm and recklessly sassy and defiant—a very bad combination.
“Howdy, boys,” I said smiling as I slipped out my soul blade. “Aren’t you a nice-looking bunch.” Not really. If you believed the stories of how elves were supposed to be hot and lean like Legolas in The Lord of the Rings movies, you’d be wrong.
Yes, they were lean, but that’s where the similarities ended. They weren’t dressed in the finest silk cloth under heavy woolen cloaks either. Nope. These dudes were dressed in t-shirts under thin military-style jackets and jeans. The only thing that looked out of place on their modern clothes were their leather baldrics and weapons belts.
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